Excalibur's senior staff (that's you) have been enjoying several days of leave at Deep Space 9 following the Battle of the Wormhole, while an extensive review of Excalibur condition has been completed to determine salvageability. Senior staff have been called to a meeting in DS9's ward room.

]]>28006Mon, 07 Nov 2016 03:48:53 +0000Freehttps://www.stsf.net/forums/topic/30035-free/
Irene Mincine’s face was shining with sweat. She was wearing short-sleeved gray exercise outfit and armed with a bat’leth, mowing down holographic Klingon warriors in a familiar-looking cave. She had been cooped up in her sickbay prison for over a week, trapped inside the blue glow of the temporal stabilization field. Now she was free… and she had plenty of rage to work out.

Where did the foreign DNA come from? She thought she had an idea before, but its self-repair mechanism was far beyond anything she had ever seen. It wasn’t from any of the major Alpha or Beta Quadrant powers – the technology for hiding messages in protein sequences was well-known but messages didn’t try to keep themselves alive! The Dominion in the Gamma Quadrant had extremely advanced genetic engineering capabilities, but this didn’t have any of their hallmarks.

Could the DNA be from the future, or an alternate timeline? Could it have something to do with the cause of the anomaly that sent them back in time in the first place?

Irene deftly dodged a dagger thrust, planting her bat’leth square in the assaulter’s chest. She was trying her hardest to ignore the stiffness in her back, as well. The wound she received when they entered this timeframe had mostly healed, other than the removed organ. Thanks to her hybrid biology, she wouldn’t be able to get a replacement except at a starbase – the operation was just too advanced and the available synthetics on board wouldn’t suffice. Worse, the nephralamine treatments she had to take always made her mouth taste like battery acid.

Irene had detailed all of her theories in a report she had given to Hakran, her superior. But that’s all she had – theories. It drove her mad. She needed a solution and she needed to know who did this to her. Irene, whose curiosity outpaced only her anger, would not be satisfied until this case was solved.

The Lysander circled at low impulse. Svati frowned, crossing her legs in the command chair. It had been almost six hours and she could almost hear the clock ticking before the Captain would, smugly, declare the entire a diversion a waste of time and order them to return to their patrol. He’d doubtlessly add something smug about scientists while doing so.

“Commander?”

She turned. “Yes, Ensign?”

“Come take a look at this.”

Brightening, but keeping her enthusiasm in check she headed to the science console. “I’ll be damned. Get the Captain up here right away.”

A few minutes later Jesselyin joined them. His tall, lanky frame occupying the bulkhead near the science console, he peered at the science officers skeptically. “So?”

“These are ion trails,” Svati said pointing to the screen. “That’s the only explanation that makes any sense anyway. One very faint ion trail.”

“It appears whatever ship left it,” Reese Corten added, with a prod from Svati, “that their field coils must have been out alignment or something. It’s very erratic.”

Jesselyin nodded, thoughtfully. “That doesn’t explain the delta radiation spike. It could just be a freighter or something that passed through. Not like they keep their warp drives in perfect working order.”

“That is a possibility,” Svati said, clearing her throat. “But it makes more sense for the two things to be related. If the Romulans are testing a new cloaking device -- perhaps something went wrong and they’re limping home.

“We also only noticed the ion trails because Ensign Corten ran it through a Terras Cycler,” she said give him a sly wink. “They appear headed towards Romulan space.”

Jesselyin frowned. “Options?”

“We should follow the ion trails. Even if it’s not a Romulan ship, they could be damaged.”

“And if is a Romulan ship? It could cause an intergalactic incident.” He closed his eyes. “Are we still having problems with the long-range communications?”

“Yes,” the communication officer on watch chimed in. “We’re still trying to track down what’s causing it.”
“How long would it take us to establish comms with HQ?”

“At least four to five hours,” the comms officer said with a glance to navigation. “Assuming the phenomena is localized to this sector.”

Jesselyin took a deep breath and glanced towards Svati. “Commander?”

“The ion trails are already starting to dissipate, we should follow them.”

The microbial life on this planet is capable of excreting an extremely hard metallic substance similar to duranium. Their metabolism depends on several factors: mineral content of their environment, heat, and pressure.

Initial testing in an artificial environment shows that these factors must be precisely controlled in order to produce material of sufficient quality and consistency for use in starship repairs.

A modified pressure chamber capable of producing these conditions is possible to build with our current materials. Sulfur can be harvested from the planet’s oceans in sufficient quantity. The energy required to produce one kilogram of material is substantial, however, and it will be an extremely inefficient process.

Conclusion: It would appear to be a plausible method of repairing the hull damage. More research will be required to determine optimal conditions and exactly how long this will take to accomplish.

Hakran entered the planetary science lab after shuttling up to the Excalibur. His curiosity was piqued, but he was also prepared to be very annoyed if the summons that brought him up here wasn’t worth it. Immediately he saw Ensign Semek seated at the primary console, and made his way over.

“I see you’re sitting down today, that’s good,” Hakran commented.

“Indeed,” replied Semek in the usual unemotional Vulcan way.

“So,” began Hakran, “what is interesting enough to drag me back up to the ship?”

“This,” Semek answered, picking up the mineral nugget lying on the edge of the console. “As well as the organisms responsible for its creation.”

"Is that the same one that ended up in your…” Hakran’s felinoid muzzle wrinkled in a mixture of fascination and revulsion.

“Indeed,” replied Semek once again. “I was most curious about its properties, as well as how and why the microscopic organisms would create them.”

“What have you found?” Asked Hakran.

“The mineral itself is rather remarkable. It is the eighth hardest naturally produced on record, superseded only by those created in planetary formation and within planetary cores. It scores 198 gigapascals on the Vickers test.”

“Impressive,” Hakran said.

“Yes, all the more so that it is a byproduct of a life form, or more specifically of the collective activity of a life form. It seems they use the various elements in the rock they graft to as a form of sustenance. They are multicellular, though relatively simple. When superheated and further fueled by the venting of the highly mineralized water and steam, they begin to secrete this mineral.

“The material richness of the venting explains why they move so quickly into the vents once the hydrothermal pressure has reduced. They are in essence gorging on a feast. The mineral secretion is in essence their form of waste removal, as the hardness of it would otherwise impact their functions.” Semek finished his presentation, complete with various diagrams, charts and tables on the console.

“That technically is not an accurate statement, sir. However, I know of no other analogue that would better suit the situation,” Semek said, in that way that almost seems prim in Vulcan standards.

“Well, this is very interesting, Ensign, but I’m still not sure why it required hauling me up here.” Hakran’s ears were easing their way flatter, as there was much to do on the planet that he couldn’t do if he wasn’t on the planet.

“I’m sorry sir, but an explanation of the mechanisms was required first. The reason I believe this is worth your immediate attention is that I believe, considering our lack of 24th Century resources and that where some alloys that we lack are required, we could harvest some of these creatures and recreate the means for them to…” Semek paused momentarily, searching for a less accurate but more appropriate word. “Manufacture the mineral in place for use in repairs.”

“Well, now that’s an interesting thought,” Hakran said, stroking his pointed beard. “I suppose you’ve already begun, if not finished, working up a proposal.”

“Indeed, I am approximately 78% complete,” replied the Vulcan planetary scientist. “I also have the biologists working on some of the particulars in regards to the life forms.”

“Good, get the whole shebang to me as soon as possible. If I find any holes or need more data before I send this off to Commander Hawthorne and Engineering, I’ll be knocking on your door. Good work, Ensign. This is the best idea your ass has ever had.”

“Yo, Val, CAG wants to see you,” said a pilot as he walked by an open but darkened bunk room.

A groggy voice came from the room. “You’re always bringing bad news, Alvar.”

***

The briefing area of the Excalibur flight deck was, out of sorts. Desks were still randomly strewn about the room. The main display board had cracked down the middle of the screen and flickered back and forth. Pictures of each of the pilots littered the floor, having fallen from the wall.

Constance d'Aubigné sighed deeply. There was little she disliked more than messy breifing room, but given that her crew had spent the entire – however many hours it had been – time since arriving in the past just trying to get the flight deck operational enough to launch a combat air patrol she would have to live with the messy briefing room.

She took a swig of decidedly fake coffee and glanced up as she heard boots. “Oh good, Val. I have a mission for you. You might need some sunglasses though.”

***

Twenty minutes later, Valerie Carillon was suited up and climbing into the cockpit of her Lancelot fighter. Her fighter.

She had been flying shuttles and cargo carriers in the transport wing for years, ever since the battle at Chin’toka that cost the Federation an entire fleet, and cost Val her eye and forearm. Both fleets and limbs can be replaced these days, but confidence and regulations can’t. And both confidence and regulations said she’d be on the bench for the rest of her career.

It took her over ten long years to get back here, back where she belonged. Who cares if it was a science mission? If she pulled it off, she might make it out of the transport squadron for good!

Val’s gloved hand pushed the throttle forward. Her fighter blasted out of the Excalibur’s hangar bay. Val’s small frame was pushed tightly back against the seat before the inertial dampeners cancelled out the acceleration. Once the fighter hit cruising speed, she locked in a course toward the system’s yellow star and kicked in the autopilot while she did a customary systems check, making sure the science package was online.

With her fighter on automatic, she took a look around outside with her augmented-reality visor. Nothing but empty space ahead of her and the crippled mothership orbiting Sarras behind her, with the gas giant behind slowly shrinking. She was at home in the void.

The scientific analysis pod, attached to the underside of the fighter, locked onto the star as it grew closer. Energy readings appeared on the main viewer, which she began to transmit back to Excalibur.

Val decided to take manual control as she got closer to the star. She stretched her wings, flying in parabolic arcs to prevent too much heat buildup – or so that’s what she told the CAG over the radio. She wanted to see what her fighter could really do. See if she still had it.

She got in close to the star – as close as was safe. As she began to round it, she pushed the throttle lever fully forward. The impulse engines glowed brightly as the fighter performed a slingshot, the gas giant and moon rising in her viewer. If this was her last chance to fly one of these Lancelots, she was going to make the most of it.

She came around the other side of the star, pulling 6 Gs and accelerating beyond the maximum speed of the impulse engines thanks to the gravity assist. She could barely lift her hand to command the engines to full reverse. As the gravity dropped, she let out a cheer while sweat poured down her face. That was the most fun she had in years!

The Excalibur contacted the fighter - the readings were solid – she’d collected loads of the gravimetric data the Excalibur would need to figure out a slingshot maneuver. Time to head home.

***

By the time Val had returned, the brief room had been brought back to something resembling the standards that d'Aubigné could find tolerable. A briefing for the first CAP was well underway as she slid into the back of the room.

“Fairly straight forward,” d'Aubigné said in her lightly accented standard, while motioning to the still cracked, but less flickering display. “Our primary objective is to keep eyes on the perimeter. The asteroid belt and ambient radiation should keep passive sensors of the era from seeing much, but if someone does drop by Captain wants to know ASAP.

“The asteroid belt is as far as you should be flying unless approved by flight ops. Even though I know you’re all skilled pilots – well except Tarheel back there,” she said to a brief outburst of giggles, “but we don’t have the ability to support any kind of rescue mission and we’re short on parts so no playing in the belt. Am I clear?”

The levity quickly dropped and the gathered pilots responded in near unison. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Very well,” she said motioning them off. “Get to it.”

Once the briefing had dispersed, d'Aubigné turned her attention to Val. “I see you managed not to sunburn yourself, Cyclops. How was it?”

“It felt good, ma’am,” Val said with a smile. “Most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

Lifting an eye-brow, d'Aubigné smirked. “Don’t get too used to fun on this ship, but good. Take a break and then I’ve got you up for the second CAP rotation.”

]]>29981Sat, 16 Mar 2019 07:00:51 +0000Delta Radiation, Or A Damned Inconvenience Pt. 2https://www.stsf.net/forums/topic/29961-delta-radiation-or-a-damned-inconvenience-pt-2/Svati smoothed back her hair. Maybe she should just cut it all off. It was such a damned inconvenience and it never looked worth a damn. It worked for the Deltans, didn’t it? She sighed and secured the flap of her jacket. Her mother would never approve.

Making her way down the hallway, she refocused on the task at hand. Telling her mother that she had shaved her head suddenly sounded more appealing of an option than waking the Captain. It wasn’t that he was a tyrant or anything. It was just -- she couldn’t place it into words -- he just didn’t seem to like her. Well not her. Her discipline. How had he put it when they first met? “It’s not you I have a problem with -- it’s what you represent. Scientists.” He’s almost spat the word.

She shook her head again. Why the would you join Starfleet if you didn’t like exploration? Who spends four years busting their ass at the Academy and goes “yeah, don’t like this whole exploring thing you people are doing.” And then sticks around long enough to command a starship!

The hallways were quiet and the deck lighting had been dimmed for evening. The Captain’s quarters were only a section down from her own and she paused collecting herself before hitting the chimes. The door lock clicked and the pneumatics hissed lowly.

Oh good, he wasn’t asleep.

“It’s late Commander -- how can I help you?”

“I hope am not disturbing you,” she said, realizing how silly that sounded.

“But?” He waived her in. “You’re in uniform and it’s -- gamma shift? So I assume it’s not just anything.”

She smiled. “It might nothing, but one of our probes has detected some very unusual radiation readings in sector 41.”

“What kind of radiation?”

“Delta radiation.”

The captain frowned, leaning back into his inset bunk along the wall opposite the door. “And you want to go take a closer look, I assume?”

“Yes, sir. It might be nothing but it coul...”

“When are we due in at Coridan?”

The interruption caught her off guard, but Svati took a deep breath. “Not for another week, and...”

“And this a chance to blah blah,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Yes, I am sure a delta radiation spike in the middle of nowhere is very interesting to you, but I have...”

Seriously? “Captain, with all due respect -- sir, may I speak freely?”

After a moment, he nodded. “Yes.”

“Jesselyin -- sir -- I know you don’t like science officers. I am not sure why exactly, but sir -- I wish you would trust me on this. If it were just something I was interested in, I wouldn’t bother coming to wake you in the middle of the night. And if you can’t trust me then maybe you should ask Starfleet for another executive officer.”

It was Jesselyin’s turn to be taken back. Sitting up, he laid the book he’d had in hands the entire conversation aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed to face her. It took several attempts before he finally spoke. “No, I don’t want another executive officer and it’s not that I don’t trust you to do that job. You’ve continued to show yourself to be a perfectly capable ex-oh.

“It’s late and I was intemperate. I am sure you wouldn’t bother me with something trivial. What do you think it could be?”

He apologized? Lord have mercy. Letting the apology stand, Svati nodded. “There’s a number of things it could be, but the one that I am concerned about in particular would be Romulans testing modifications to their cloaking device. Intelligence reports for the sector have indicated an increased number of sensor blips over the last month or so.”

]]>29961Thu, 21 Feb 2019 08:21:41 +0000Carillonhttps://www.stsf.net/forums/topic/29942-carillon/
Lt. j.g. Carillon sat uneasily in her Peregrine fighter. She was flying patrol in the Chin’toka system, recently retaken from the Dominion and the scene of heavy fighting. Over her shoulder was her mothership, the Nebula-class USS Greenland. Surrounding, in every direction, were Federation, Klingon, and even a few Romulan starships, of every size and shape.

“Omega flight, Greenland control,” the subspace radio buzzed in her helmet. With all the jamming and counter-jamming going on, even close-range transmissions sounded like two tin cans and a string. “Sensors picking up incoming small craft. Transmitting vector, intercept and destroy.”

“Greenland control, Omega 1. Understood, intercepting,” came over the radio. Carillon, flying Omega 3, took off with the rest of her squadron toward the incoming targets. The fighter’s sensors linked into the Greenland’s automatically, letting her see targets that were minutes away even at maximum impulse.

The sensor readings resolved into eight Dominion fighters. The purple, beetle-like craft always scared the hell out of her, even after she’d blown 40 of them out of the heavens. The way they glowed, the way they moved unnaturally, the way they’d get behind you and there was nothing you could do. With the losses they inflicted on the Allies, everyone should have been afraid of them. Most pilots were.

Twelve Federation fighters against eight Dominion fighters still wasn’t fair odds, she thought, as the dogfight began. Twenty ships in an elaborate dance of death, phaser blasts and torpedoes and disruptor blasts and compression beams shooting in every direction.

Lt. Carillon and a Dominion fighter circled, twisted, curled. Her hands moved the controls with the grace of a seasoned combat pilot. One phaser blast and it was over - the Dominion fighter exploded in a cloud of plasma and metal fragments. She didn’t have time to celebrate - two more were on her. Only the quick intervention of one of her wingmen was able to save her life, one fighter vaporizing while the other broke off.

In the chaos of the dogfight, another transmission broke through on the priority channel. “USS Nova, we’ve… some kind of… energy weapon…”

The transmissions kept on coming. Ship after ship, hit by an energy weapon. All power down. Unkown Breen warships on attack vector. An entire Dominion fleet out there, destroying ship after ship. Panic and chaos. And in her fighter, there was nothing she could do to help.

Her concentration broke when the Greenland disappeared from her tactical link. Disappeared. Gone. Vaporized. She had no time to process this fact before her fighter shook. Purple light shot by her viewport. She did exactly what she wasn’t supposed to do - she panicked.

There was a loud bang from behind and her fighter began to spin out of control. A junction box exploded to her right, showering her in green plasma fire. Lt. Carillon, overcome, screamed and pulled the ejection handle.

Her fighter split in two, the cabin section rocketing away from the rest. Her visor fogged from sweat and heavy breathing. The cabin, lighter and with a new center of gravity, continued to spin. The atmosphere of the cabin vented, extinguishing the plasma. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was the Dominion fighter zooming by her cockpit…

It was late and gamma shift had reached the point of the evening where Harold Tisker considered if he could get away with a nap in the head. Lysander was nearly three months into her first real assignment -- cataloging gaseous anomalies in near the Romulan Neutral Zone -- and nothing even remotely exciting had happened to them yet; which, as far as Harold was concerned, was entirely okay.

He leaned back in the command chair and started to close his eyes. Nothing wrong with an inspection of them. Behind him, the new junior officer they’d picked up at Starbase 10 prattled on about Erathian verb conjugations -- or something -- from the communications station. How anyone could get so excited for a language no one had spoken for three thousand years eluded Harold, but whatever floated the guy’s starship, A station or two over, an enlisted guy named Hancock was swinging (and missing) for the fences with gamma shift’s engineer, Malia Jhaon. Harold considered sparing the poor guy by reminding him that such flirtations were inappropriate, but that sounded suspiciously like effort, something Harold had sworn off for the rest of the shift.

Harold had almost managed to doze off when the woosh of the lift doors stirred him to attention. Unperturbed. he sat up, pretending to be busy looking at the clipboard on his lap.

“Delta radiation?” Svati’s eyebrow was peaked like a Vulcan, and she was already halfway to the science console. “There shouldn’t be any delta radiation spikes in quadrant 29.” She really must be bored, Harold considered.

It was accurate. Svati had spent the better part of the last two weeks looking at space dust and crew evaluations. This was her first assignment as an executive officer and she wished someone had warned her about all the administrivia that came with the shoe closet they called her office. Reese Corten looked up as she approached. He was, from her remembrance of his file, a capable if inexperienced officer; like many on the crew, it was first real mission since graduating the academy.

“So, what are we looking at Ensign.”

“One of the probes picked it up, ma’am,” Reese said, rolling his chair over to give her room at his console. Svati nodded and looked over the readings.

“Did you run it through the Terras cycler?”

Fumbling for a moment to remember what that even was, he shook his head. “Not yet ma’am,” he finally said, “I -- uh -- we hadn’t seen anything other than just the spike so we were just recording the data.”

She furrowed her brows and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “Mmm,” she began tapping. “Always good to run delta radiation spikes through it. Though -- Ensign... Portein have you monitored anything on subspace?”

Harold closed his eyes and bit his lip. He felt it coming. Wincing he braced himself. But the dressing down never came. Instead, Svati instructed Portien to begin monitoring from here on out. That was a relief.

“Lieutenant, give him a hand and go back through the logs from when you detected this until now and make sure there’s nothing he missed.” What a damned inconvenience, but at least she didn’t blow up on him.

“Ma’am,” Reese said, “what are you thinking?”

“There shouldn’t be any unusual delta radiation in that sector. It’s empty space. And the -- what are their names? Tamarians and Kaedwani? Neither of them are very technologically advanced. Warp 4 or something like that?”

Svati was pacing. She did that alot when she was trying to figure a problem out. She also rambled. It drover her roommate at the academy crazy.

“How far is that from Romulan border?”

Reese took a moment to find the exact distance. She nodded. “Though intel is spotty in the region,” she stopped. “Ah good the results from the Terras Cycler.

“Interesting. You said we picked up the spike from one of the probes?”

“Yes -- uh -- 6-D.”

“Where is it now?”

“Quadrant 30. “

“Turn it around, have it go back through 29 and this time have it do a level 4 sweep. Then we need to run a level 2 analysis of this data. It could be nothing, but this close to Romulan space...”

Harold had been listening and while most of what she was saying was about as intelligible to him as Portein’s babbling about Erathian verbs, he got the gist of it. “Commander,” he interjected at an opportune time, “should we inform the Captain?”

Svati took a deep breath. “No,” she finally said. “I’ll do it. I need to change into my uniform anyway. Ensign continue monitoring and begin the level 2 analysis.”

Uh... we’re in the past. Like, a hundred years in the past. They don’t like to talk about it at the academy, but I know that starships have gone back and come back before. Still, to actually be here, it’s... and the ship is a complete wreck too. We can’t just go to Starbase 41 and get our nacelle fixed in the 2200s.

Even better, we have a Romulan envoy aboard? And this space was under the suzerainty, if not control, of the Romulans at this time as far as I can tell? If we run into a patrol out here, in our condition, what’s going to happen? We’re 100 years ahead of them but our ship is in a hundred pieces! I wish I could do *something* to help that, but what’s a biologist going to do to fix the warp drive?

How do we know the Romulans didn’t have something to do with setting this whole thing up, anyway? Delivering a 24th century Starfleet ship to the 23rd century Romulan Star Empire? Imagine what kind of repercussions that would have on the timeline. We’ll be tortured to death for information on the future and the ship will be taken apart to become the base of a Romulan galactic conquest.

I’m sure the captain has plans for contingencies like that, though. Scuttling the ship rather than contaminating the timeline - but then we’d be stuck here forever. And I’d kinda like to get back to 2388.

Um, personally, I’m doing okay. I’m laid up in sick bay once again - when we were hit by the shockwave that sent us here, I got thrown clear across the bridge into a data coupling that tried to couple with me. I lost a kidney but I’ll live. They’ll fix me up with a new one if we ever get back to a starbase. The one organ Klingons don’t have extras of, huh? Remind me to lodge a protest with the gods we killed.

Note: All dates are converted to the Federation calendar. Entries may be truncated by order of Klingon High Council.

Born: 2240, Qo'noS

Status: Deceased, 2312

Parents: Klaa, son of Kolar (2174-2289) and Molat, daughter of B'Eddeyr (2190-2331)

Children: P'Lor, daughter of Molat (b. 2304).

K'Arxa, daughter of Molat, was a captain in the Klingon Imperial Fleet of the late 23rd century. She was one of the few female Klingon captains of the era. For most of her career, she served on the IKS Betat.

She was born to the two minor nobles Klaa and Molat, the result of a political union between the House of Morvath (Klaa) and the House of K'Ovel (Molat). Like most of her Morvath family before her, she joined the Imperial Fleet soon after her Ascension ceremony. She passed the entrance examination in 2259 and was commissioned as an ensign upon graduating the Fleet Academy.

K'Arxa was a talented gunner, rising to the rank of lieutenant by 2270 where she was assigned to the IKS Betat. She took part in the Tholian Campaign, the Epsilon IV invasion, and finally the Klingon-Renarran War of 2278. As second officer of a Bird of Prey during the war, she was feared by her subordinates and respected by her superiors.

The Betat was involved in a skirmish near the end of the war, pitting two Birds of Prey against five Renarran cruisers. One Bird of Prey was destroyed and the Betat was severely damaged, with the captain and first officer both killed. K'Arxa took command of the bridge, rallying the crew. By the end of the battle, two Renarran ships were destroyed, two damaged beyond repair, and one surrendered.

Upon return to Qo'noS, she was inducted into the Order of the Bat'leth and given command of the Betat after its repair. She continued to distinguish herself in battle, being considered one of the top Klingon commanders of the era.

Her activities between 2282 and 2300 are classified.

She gave birth to a daughter, P'Lor, in 2305.

In 2312, she was assigned as one of three Birds of Prey escorting the Chancellor's battlecruiser to high-level talks with the Federation president on Betazed. Three days from Betazed, the other two Birds of Prey opened fire on the Chancellor's ship, disabling the warp drive. The cloaking device had also been sabotaged.

K'Arxa did not hesitate and opened fire on one Bird of Prey, destroying it but at the cost of her own weapons. The second ship prepared to a photon torpedo at the battlecruiser's neck, intending to destroy the bridge and kill the Chancellor. K'Arxa ordered the Betat to ram the renegade Bird of Prey, destroying both ships and saving the Chancellor's life. She was posthumously awarded the Order of Kahless.

The culprit of this attack is still unknown, as both assailant ships were destroyed and no motive was ever found. See the article on the Betazed Incident of 2312 for more information.

Super weird things spin around in your brain when you’ve been hit with something the size of El Cap. Well, maybe it wasn’t El Cap size, but it sure felt like it. This time the helm console takes the prize. What prize? The “Whoever gets Gunny slap happy first takes the beer" prize. Not exactly slap happy, but it takes a while to get your bearings, and even when you do, all kinds of stuff bounces back and forth—a ping pong ball not quite hitting the net and bouncing over… and over… and over. Kal figured that the ship had stopped spinning but his brain didn’t. It was definitely on a roll.

At this point, the best pillow he had was the most recent nemesis, the helm console, so he stayed put, forehead resting on crossed arms, breathing deeply while he tried to keep his act together. And the way to keep you act together is to take notes. Sounds weird, but it works. It keeps your brain focused on something you want to think about instead of the ping-pong ball inside your brain. He just wants to get the stupid out in case he survives. And if he remembers the notes, he might just take himself up on ‘em. And if he doesn’t survive, whoever takes over can use it as a reference. Nice.

Note # 1:
Heads are not re-attachable, and you only have one. Unless you're an android, and even then you're taking a big chance.

Note #2
Helm chairs are comfortable until they aren't. Sure, they're padded and got sweet arm rests with a cup holder, but they’re also bolted to the decking with the toughest alloy in the galaxy. And the decking is attached to the ship. If you're sitting there when the ship takes a major hit, that seat moves with the ship. You don't. Every jerk and spin takes you and your head counter to thrust, so unless you're secured with a five-point, a sudden reverse thrust or explosion smashes your head against the helm console, snaps your neck a couple times, then bonks your head again. Not so nice.

Note #3
Working toward Akira Helm Master Certification is stupid unless you know what you’re getting into. Think about it. Just because that Akira is a lean, mean, flyin’ machine and puts everything else in port to shame doesn't mean it’s gonna treat you well. And it doesn’t mean you should listen to the stories at the bar, then perk up when someone drops a hint that they're looking for a new helmsman. That’s a dead giveaway that the guy might be a recruiter. So think before you sign. And ask. Exactly why do you need a new helmsman? If he didn’t retire, then what exactly happened to him on that last op?

Remember the recruiter who spun his story so well that you signed up? He knew the real story. You didn't. You sign up for helm? He grins. Big time. You’re so psyched you can’t wait. He's psyched because he gets another bonus. He’s trained. You aren’t.

Note #4
Watch out. Remember the Sirens in The Odyssey? If you don’t remember, better take a look ‘cause that Akira might be beautiful, but she’s a Siren. Once you take hold of her, you’re not gonna leave. Do I ever want to leave? You kiddin’ me? Hell no! Treat Excal right and she’s a sweet lady. Easy handling, smooth to the touch, and maneuvering? Handles like an SOC-R. [That’s a Special Ops Craft- Riverine if you don’t know. She’s an awesome babe, too.] Anyway, I’m never leavin’ if I can help it.

Huh? Sounds like the doc. Walks like the doc. Must be the doc. “Uh… head jerked around a couple times,” he muttered without looking up. “Neck snapped. Nothin’ more that I can feel right now. Hell of a headache. Just wanna puke. And sleep.”

]]>29912Sun, 13 Jan 2019 01:14:01 +0000Oceanhttps://www.stsf.net/forums/topic/29902-ocean/
Irene found herself in the pilot’s seat of a shuttle. How did she get there? She had a pounding headache. That’s all she knew. She looked down at the panel to figure out where she was. It was blank.

She checked another panel. Out the window now was a planet with a swirling pink and green atmosphere. It was getting big, fast. The sensors said there was nothing there. In fact, they showed nothing at all. No stars, no planets, no location.

“Computer, kill the engines.”

…

“Computer?”

Nothing.

“No computer, either…” She was starting to get worried – especially since she didn’t remember anything about a mission or travel at all. And then she felt a sharp pain in her back. She felt it with her hand. It came back drenched in blood. In fact, there was blood was dripping from the ceiling. And, slowly, coming up through the floor.

The outside view had changed, too. Now it was a stormy atmosphere, the shuttle zooming over an ocean of blood. The flow continued in the cabin, now up to Irene’s ankles. Lightning flashed around her, illuminating the shuttle with yellow light.

Irene felt tired, very tired. The shuttle seemed to know where it was going, avoiding lightning strikes with quantum precision. She didn’t have the energy to do much but watch. She felt like this was the right thing to do, inside.

As she approached the surface, she saw a fleet of Federation starships floating on the red ocean. A few names were visible: the Odyssey, the Saratoga, the Melbourne, the Drake.

It looked like her shuttle was on its way to join them. The blood was up to her waist.

Lightning struck the shuttle. Irene felt it shock her very core. Her world flashed, and then the shuttle was hovering, floating only a few feet over the strange ocean.

She grabbed her chest, making sure her heart was still beating. It was irregular, but this didn’t alarm her. A sense of calm fell over her as she looked out the shuttle viewport. The landing lights illuminated the Drake. She could see through the hull, the lights illuminating it like an X-ray beam.

Inside were a decaying crew, hundreds of them. All at their stations like nothing had changed. Irene, the calm now long passed, screamed as blood rushed into the shuttle, faster now, up to her chest.

Another flash of lightning and her body began falling apart, like the doomed crew of the Drake. The blood was dissolving her, but she felt nothing. Now it was up to her neck. As it rose above her eyes, the world turned to a milky white.

Then, nothing.

]]>29902Mon, 07 Jan 2019 20:17:49 +0000No Amount of Chai Can Fix Thishttps://www.stsf.net/forums/topic/29846-no-amount-of-chai-can-fix-this/
Hakran had retreated to the quiet of his office to review the information they had thus far collected via passive sensor scans. There were some anomalies but all faint enough to rate low confidence scores, so he did no more than keep them in the back of his mind for now.

Rising, he ordered a nice cup of hot vanilla chai from the replicator. As he took his first sip his console beeped. Thinking it was something juicy from the sensor scans he hurried, slopping some of the hot cinnamon-scented liquid on the back of his furry paw. With a curse, he gave it a quick shake and a quick lick which showed how preoccupied he was as he seldom resorted to the "traditional" method of cleaning.

Instead of dry data, it was an official communique from Captain Swain. He quickly wiped up the remaining dripping chai before placing the mug onto his desk, not wanting any more accidents. He opened the message and gave it his usual quick scan to get the gist before re-reading it thoroughly. As he progressed through the message his eyes opened wider while his ears flattened.

He silently mouthed "independent authority to conduct the investigation." Twice. He took an over-large gulp of his chai, then spent the next minute or so regretting it and waiting for his mouth, throat, and esophagus to cool down.

"I'm not a detective! I'm a scientist! A lab scientist. My idea of leading is 'go forth and collect data,' and that's with friendly scientists." He sighed the weary sigh of a person waiting in line at a Department of Suborbital Vehicles office to get their license renewed.

With a powerful snort of air blown through his nose, he glared at the screen and growled "crap on a cracker!"

Asher sat pensively next the glassy table at the center of the observation lounge, sipping replicated tea -- herbal supplement #431. It had a somewhat pleasant mixture of juniper, fern and cardamom that made him think of a flannel shirt. For replicated tea, it was passable. Chewing at his lip, he sat the tea down as the chimes announced the arrival of the first of guests.

Captain-General Gal Calborn entered through the side entrance, flanked on either side by one of Excalibur’s security officers -- a concession to both the Tamaran and Kadwani delegations. She was stoutly built and dressed in full regalia. “Captain,” she said in the low-gutturals endemic to her species, “Thank you for agreeing to host this conversation.”

Before he could respond, the chimes came again and the lythe, horned figured of the Kaedwani commander emerged from behind the doors. She looked towards her Tamaran counterpart for a long moment before turning her attention to Asher. “Captain Swain, I presume. Taller than I expected for a primate.”

Was that a racism? Asher smiled anyway. “Welcome to the Excalibur, please have a seat. Can I get either of you anything to drink while we wait for Commander tr’Shaelon?”

“I require no refreshment to be able to meet with you, my stamina is quite fine,” came an overly quick response from Calborn. Asher exhaled through his nose, trying his best to remain neutral.

“Of course, Gen...” The chimes interrupted, mercifully, and tr’Shaelon entered the room with a flourish.

“Jolan tru,” he said tipping his head. “I am pleased that we are all able to be here and that calm, rational dialog may yet win out.”

This is going to be a very long day. Asher nodded and motioned everyone to have a seat. After some initial posturing on all sides, the four commanding officers each relayed the version of events as they had experienced it: the Tamarans had received a very garbled transmission that appeared to be a distress call and had moved to intercept; the Excalibur had detected a similar transmission and done the same; the Kaedwani continued to maintain they had detected no such signal but had instead detected the Excalibur moving off it’s registered flight path and moving towards a Tamaran vessel headed towards their space; and then there were the Romulans.

“In the interest of transparency,” tr’Shaelon began. “My orders were to keep an eye on the Exca;inur during your trade mission to the Confederation. As you might imagine, my government weary of Federation interest in one of our strongest allies.”

Asher had to make a concerted effort to keep from rolling his eyes, but nodded along. “Naturally.”

“We had been keeping some distance, as I said we were only observing. We noticed your course correction and did briefly detect a subspace transmission, but both due to our cloak and its somewhat low-powered nature could not identify it further...”

“A secret transmission!” The Kaedwani commander interrupted, thundering as she he smacked her fist on the table. “No doubt a signal from the Tamaran fools.”

“How dare you.... You... you...”

“Can we please,” Asher said sharply, “can we please refrain from pointing fingers.”

The two commanders glowered, but nodded. Asher exhaled again and looked to towards tr’Shaelon who seemed impressed at Swain’s ability to defuse the situation. “Indeed. My science officers do not believe the transmission was Tamaran in origin, but without additional evidence we cannot rule that out.”

“What more evidence do you need?!” This time it was Calborn rumbling from across the table. “There is an entire field of debris out there or did your fancy cloaking device keep you from seeing that too? Speaking of which... awfully handy you just happened to be here...”

“Why would the Romulans destroy one of our ships?”

“To precipitate a war between us! To drive...”

“Stop it.” Asher said smacking his mug against the table. “Just stop it. We’re not going to get anywhere as long as we keep devolving into shouting matches.”

Calborn recoiled, but the Kaedwan commander was less cowed. “Then what do you suggest, Captain? I have yet to hear any evidence exonerating your crew. You’re just as...”

Asher made a note to thank tr’Shaelon later. Perhaps a bottle of the ale that Issaha had given him? “Yes, I am proposing that we conduct a joint investigation of the incident. Crewmembers from all four ships will be involved and each of us will agree to turn over all sensor logs and computer information.

“I am sure that we all have information we’d rather not share, but we must trust each other.”

“Why should we trust you?” It was the Kaedwani again.

“Because I am trusting him,” tr’Shaelon said. “I am not exactly pleased at the idea of turning over sensor data or computer logs, either; and I assure you my superiors will be even less than thriled.”

“Mine won’t exactly be happy either,” Asher admitted. “But I am committed to finding out the truth of what has happened. Something or someone destroyed the freighter out there and I intend to find out who or what did it.”

“Fine. I will, accede to your request on the condition that after the investigation is complete that you turn over all information to my government and all parties agree to accept Confederation jurisdiction when determining any judicial proceedings.”

“Agreed.”

“Very well.”

Asher nodded. “There is one last matter. As my ship is the best equipped to handle an investigation of this nature, I would propose that it be headquartered here and led by my chief of science who will have independent authority to conduct the investigation. Are there any objections?”

A welcome silence followed and for the first time, Asher began to breathe a bit easier. “Very well, I suggest everyone return to their ships and begin coordinating with Lieutenant K’hal on which officers you are assigning to his investigation.”

Both the Tamaran and Kaedwani commanders departed shortly after, their security detachments keeping them apart; tr’Shaelon however lingered. “Captain, if we might have a moment in private?”

“Of course, why don’t you join me in my ready room. I might even have a bottle of Romulan ale if you need something after that.”

BACKGROUND
Formed nearly a century ago, the Kaedwan Confederation began as a defensive alliance between the Kaedwan, Aedirn, Kovissian and Cintran peoples as a backstop against expansionist neighboring powers in the Paimpont region, such as the Xindi, Breen, Romulan, but more immediately the Tamaran Empire. The defensive alliance quickly grew into a multinational confederation and has solidified into a federated republic, comprising of several dozen star systems and ten member states.

The Confederation maintains close trade relations with the Breen and Romulans, with whom they exclusively supply with cryogenic materials and oxium (a rare metal used in construction of Romulan AQS units.) In return, the Breen and Romulans governments provide them with weapons, technological advances, and protection from the Tamaran and Xindi.

Due to the Federation’s longtime support of the Tamaran Empire, whom the Tamarans supply large quantities of biogenic materials, relations between the two have remained terse, if not antagonistic. However, recent developments on Romulus have led some in the Confederation to wonder about the long-term viability of their partnership, and to look towards the Federation -- who they are more ideologically aligned with -- as a better fit.

POLITICS
While the member states retain vestigial autonomy on a number of issues, real authority rests with the governing “Security Council.” The Security Council is nominally comprised of all ten member states, however only five are given “voting” rights. These five consist of three of founding members (Kaedwan, Aedirn, and Koviss) while the other two rotate on a two-year basis through the remaining seven representatives. At the beginning of each two-year term, the representatives elect a Chair who serves as the nominal head of government, though in reality the powers of the office are mostly limited to parliamentary procedure.

The Confederation’s head of government, the Secretary-General, is elected by direct-popular election and serves for unlimted 6-year terms. The current Secretary-General is Gniss Colarni, the first Secretary-General to be elected from outside one of the original founding states. The Secretary-General serves as the commander and chief of the Confederation military, and guides both domestic and foreign policy.

Within the Confederation, the Kaedwan and Aedrin maintain positions of consistent dominance, owing to both their relatively larger economies and populations. The Confederation military, in particular, while being nominally the responsibility of all member states, draws heavily from Aedrin and Kaedwani history and traditions.

While the Kaedwan homeworld of Ard Jael serves as a defacto capitol, the actual capitol is a large, space-born facility located near the center of the confederation.

BIOLOGY
Kaedwan
Classification P-2 life forms, the Kaedwan are mammalian primates. They have fair skin and complexion. Though their histories record they once possessed telepathic abilities, a genetic mutation that propagated throughout the species some 10-centuries ago seems to have neutralized this gene. Physically they are resemble Terans, with the exception of two corniculate structures on their heads.

Aedrin
Classification P-6 lifeforms, the Aedrin are mammalian primates. They have blue-green skin and markings in deep purple, pink and grey that form around their eyes.

Cintra
Classification P-5, Cintran are mammalian primates who bear a strong resemblance to Vulcan and Romulans, including having copper based blood. It is possible they are distant related.

Tothir
R-1 class lifeorms, the Tothir are a species of cold-blooded reptilians with a highly-evolved sense of smell that replaces their near-absent sense of sight.

MILITARY OVERVIEW
By Lt. Commander Philippe Augustin and Major Ryu Seung-jae

The Kaedwan Confederation maintains a robust defensive posture with a series of outposts along their considerable borders with the Xindi, Federation and Tamaran governments. In addition they posses advanced technology on par with the Gorn or Tzenkethi Empires.

Their military fleet primarily consists of varying classes of light cruisers, destroyers and smaller patrol vessels. These ships are armed with weapons sourced from Breen and Romulan governments.

Federation intelligence suggests the Kaedwan also possess several larger capital ships. Current information indicates they have 16 Bulwark-class heavy cruisers (roughly equivalent to a Mk4 Excelsior-class), 4 Adamant-class heavy cruisers (roughly equivalent to a Mk2 Ambassador-class) and 3 Citadel-class battle carriers (roughly equivalent to an Akira-class.) Additionally further intel suggests the development of a series of new “medium” cruisers to be underway with the first of these ships expected to begin space trials in the next 16-18 months.

I am glad to be off Risa. I spent too long in that Ferengi's basement to ever go back to that place. I've just sent in my report to Commander Hawthorne and I expect another lecture on personal responsibility or something. Of course, last time I expected a lecture I got promoted to personal trainer... and this time it wasn’t really my fault, so who knows. She’s very surprising, not at all what I expected out of a first officer.

Dr. Dubois was able to put my shoulder back together – she’s a miracle worker. You can barely see the scar! That’s Federation medicine for you - the big one on my ribs is Klingon handiwork. Different cultures, different priorities, even when it comes to medical care. The phaser burn’s healed into a starburst of pale splotches - I’m not going to be wearing any tank tops for a while. She said they’ll fade over time as the skin heals and takes on its natural color again.

But… now I'm off duty until I get medical clearance to get back to doing my job. I hate being off duty. It makes me feel like a lump, sitting here in my bunk with my arm in a sling while everyone else is working around me. Nothing I can do about it, though. Doctors outrank ensigns. And it’s probably a good idea not to overexert myself anyway and end up with a permanent injury. Good thing I work a desk job down in the science labs - maybe I can sneak down there and hang out with our cats.

Personal update - I called Zefram, he's doing all right. He might get the Jovian run soon, that's pretty exciting. P'Lor is fine, too. Zefram sent me a few Klingon opera recordings a week or so ago, so at least I've got something to listen to in my downtime. I told him about my little adventure and he said he’d dig up some more for me. He’s such a great brother!

So the big question, what am I going to do with my time off duty? I’m not sure. Dr. Ryssan suggested catching up on meditation. I suppose it couldn’t hurt, given my behavior lately… I bought some real ritual candles, stamped with the mark of one of the big shrines on Qo’noS, and even made a little shrine at my bunk. (I wish I had quarters, sometimes.) And I heard the chief downloaded some new holoprograms and movies I can check out, too.

But… on a real personal note... I... what I got with Kasmati, I hadn’t felt for a long time. Is it a personal weakness? How do people deal with it on a starship? On extended missions, only around the same hundred people in a duranium can? I don’t know. I suppose not every personal need can be met on a starship - and there’s always the holodeck, right?

Author's Note, this log takes place during Excalibur's time on Risa. Apologies for the delayed posting.

Elethor, the larger of the twin suns of Risa, had already dipped below the horizon of the Regent’s Lagoon while Hjae, the smaller of the pair followed close behind. It had been a long time since Asher had been on Risa. Arden had spent several years stationed at nearby Starbase 12 and came often, but that had been when Asher was in command of the Cassini and rarely had a chance to spend time with him. He took a drink. That was a choice, he considered. It was always a choice. They had known each other for half a lifetime. They’d been through virtually every major life event together. There had been their graduation from the academy, their first posting together, each’s first promotion. Arden had been the second call Asher made when he learned he’d been given the opportunity to command a starship. The first was his mother. They hadn’t even been together then. They were on one of the many breaks that Asher had come to feel were mostly his doing, but still there wasn’t anyone else he wanted to talk to about it more.

“Of course you’re going to take it,” Arden had said, almost in disbelief. “If you turn down this command, who knows when another will come around -- and you can’t stay as the ex-oh of the Idrissi.” Arden had, as usual, been correct and he’d eventually accepted the offer to take over. There was always some doubt for Asher though. He’d never wanted to be in command. He certainly never wanted to be in command during a war. He was an explorer, a scientist, a cartographer.

The war had changed everyone, everything. After it ended he’d considered leaving the fleet -- he’d done his bit for king and country; but as always, the allure of the unknown pulled him back and, at Arden’s urging, he accepted command of the Cassini. For the next ten years he journeyed into beyond. H was an explorer again. There had been a price to that, of course. Arden had always wanted to be with Asher, even before the Cassini but the distance strained their relationship even more. They went weeks, months without talking. Longer than during any other time in their lives. Still, Arden had always been there when Asher did call.

Asher rubbed at his nose. Maryse had been kind enough to patch up his broken nose, off the record. He didn’t want to make anything official, regarding Miranda losing her temper in his ready room. He’d deserved that punch.

Retiring was a serious consideration. Though it was unlikely Admiral Tersan would find cause for his long-term removal, the investigation and subsequent administrative leave had given Asher ample time to once again consider the matter. Not that it had really left his mind since being given command of Excalibur. Arden’s posting to Camelot had complicated matters.

Their relationship had almost completely fallen apart when he’d surprised Asher by requesting an assignment to Camelot. Asher hated the Gamma Quadrant and, outside of the crew who he cared deeply for, the entire assignment to Excalibur. Nothing about it had ever felt right. He wanted the Cassini back, but then there was Arden who made it all seem less terrible. When they’d returned to the Alpha Quadrant, and Arden asked him to marry him it seemed like the right time to leave his career behind for Arden, who’d done the same for Asher multiple times -- but Arden wouldn’t hear it.

“Absolutely not,” he said when Asher brought it up the first time on the long shuttle ride from Deep Space 9 to Asher’s family home on the distant colony of Kynareth. “It’s not an option. You’re keeping the Excalibur.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I could join you.”

Asher had frowned. “I love you, but...”

“I know.” He kissed Asher on the cheek. “I know. We’ll figure something out that works for both us. People owe both of us favors.”

Behind Asher, as the suns settled lower and stars began to sparkle through the purple-pink sky, he heard Miranda and Arden laughing in the kitchen of their bungalow and sighed. He’d been so selfish. Miranda had said it without saying it, but retirement was selfish. It was an easy way to solve a problem. No, solve his problem.

Pushing off the railing, Asher finished his wine and headed inside. Dinner was a civil affair. Arden had prepared a fantastic meal, as he always did. Miranda seemed more at ease with him than she’d been a few days before, or even at the reception. She had every right and reason to be upset, Asher knew. Still, they both knew such tension was untenable aboard a starship. When they’d finished with dinner, Arden excused himself to the kitchen to make coffee leaving them alone.

“He can cook,” Miranda said as she put her napkin on the table. “One of his many endearing qualities, but we were going to talk about you and Excalibur, weren’t we?”

Asher nodded. In the three years they’d known each other, Miranda had quickly grown from first-officer to a valued friend and colleague. “In some ways it’d be easier for me, maybe even for them, if I asked for a transfer. A new captain could bring a lot to the table but... that’d be a little too easy for me, wouldn’t it?”

She only nodded as he continued. “I should have brought you all into everything. I shouldn’t have hid it but... I did. There’s no real reason to go through that whole thought process, other than just... it won’t happen again.”

“You’re right. It won’t,” she said firmly. “Because if it ever does, you’re on your own. No backup, no covering. We put our own careers on the line for you this time. I won’t do that again. I won’t let the crew do that again.” Her wine swirled in her glass. “You could take the easy way, but if you did, you’d probably hate yourself for it. Retirement wouldn’t suit you, and you know it.”

“No... Arden said the same thing, and he’s right. I’d have to find something to do.”

“I’m not sure why you’d even be considering the change. We work well together, don’t we?” She couldn’t quite keep the hurt from her voice.

He heard it and drew back from his wine for a second. “Of course. You’re an excellent first officer and...” he paused, swallowing. “A better friend than I deserve. It’s just ... since the war the uniform hasn’t always felt right and I don’t know...”

Taking a long drink of his wine, he sighed again. “And part of me feels like, I’ve made Arden make so many sacrifices. He’s always been the one giving something up for me, never the other way around. I thought -- I thought maybe leaving fleet and just being there for him would change things, but then I’d just be being selfish again.

“It would just be about my own guilty feelings, and not how Arden feels.”

"And how does he feel," Miranda said, pointedly.

"He thinks I am being silly," Asher said as he emptied his wine glass and refilled it. "I know in his heart he wants us to be on the same assignment again but --"

"But?" Miranda had softened some, but only some. "He's a good officer and the crew likes him. I am sure we could find a place for him."

"It's not that. He'd fit in fine with the crew and he's one of the best officers in the sector. I just can't have someone that close to me under my command -- for a billion reasons. I know I am not exactly the type of commanding officer who keeps my officers at arms length, but there's got to be some limits and..."

"And you couldn't give the order." Miranda was sympathetic now, as her own thoughts wandered. "I can understand that."

"I just can't make decisions for the crew with him around. I could never send him on a dangerous away mission. I would second guess every command decision."

"So, have you told him that?"

"I didn't for a long time. Well, not directly. The old, 'it's not you' stuff," he tipped the wine glass back again. "But we've talked a lot since I came back. He's different, you know? Always has been. I've dated plenty of people over the years. Even someone like Kai, who meant a lot to me --I could, I think, have had him under my command. But Arden? I can't be rational. I wish I could. It would be easier, for everyone. I just can't."

"Good. I am glad you're finally being honest with yourself. "

Arden returned at that point with coffee, leaving unsaid how much of the conversation he'd listened to through the sliding doors. "So Miranda, what are you going to do for the remaining few days on Risa..."

Yarloz, a club in the district, was found to be harboring two fugitives, identified as Grint, a Ferengi businessman, and Kasmati Prell, a Deltan engineer. For several months, they had been burglarizing popular Risan resorts and stashing the pilfered goods in a storeroom under the club, where they offered them for sale to known criminal clientele.

They were discovered this week after the pair allegedly kidnapped a Starfleet officer with intent to sell her to the Orions. Starfleet security forces swept in, recovered the officer, subdued Ms. Prell, and discovered the stolen goods.

Ms. Prell was arrested at the scene and is cooperating with authorities to identify and return the merchandise. She is also providing detailed information about her accomplice, Grint, who she claims was in charge of the operation and instigated the kidnapping over her objections. Charges against her are currently pending.

The club’s operating license has been revoked pending the outcome of the investigation. The club’s manager stated that he had no knowledge of the operation.

Grint escaped apprehension and his whereabouts are currently unknown. If you have any information about him, please contact Risan security.

Presidential Candidates Debate Future of Cardassian Reconstruction, Domestic Polcies at Forum
Front runners vying to led the Federation met on Betazed for the first of a series of candidate forums ahead of formal debates scheduled for later next month. Candidates discussed a myriad of issues including the long, ongoing effort to rebuild Cardassia. With both President Bacco and her Vice-President opting out of runs, the field is considered wide-open. The next forum will be held on Vulcan on SD 28802.3. Tune in live to FNN for full coverage.

Romulan Empire Announces Tighter Visa Requirements
Citing a rise of security concerns on outlying worlds, the Romulan government has announced a series of changes to their already strict visa requirements for Federation citizens wishing to enter Romulan space. Beginning early next week, Federation citizens will be required to produce a number of new documents verifying their identity, and will be limited to only two weeks in Romulan space for non-government related travel. The Federation Diplomatic corps has released a statement saying they find the change ‘troubling’ and intend to discuss the matter at ‘the highest levels.’ More at FNN Intergalactic.

Future Federation Members Converge on Risa
Dozens of candidate worlds sent representatives to Risa to participate in a conference designed to allow a cross-culture exchange of issues facing those worlds on a variety of topics, including security, healthcare and infrastructure development. More at FNN Politcs.

Elasia To Host 2390 Federation Track and Field Championships
Following their expected ascension to full-federation membership, Elasia will play host to the 2390 Federation Track and Field Championships. “We’re very excited,” Jalen L’Kan, chairment of the FOGC, said at the announcement on Earth, “The Elasians put together such an amazing bid and we’re excited for our athletes to compete in such excellent venues.” More at FNN Sports.

Investigation Into Labor Practices Announced
The Federation Trade and Labour Board announced it would launch a full inquiry into reports over unsafe labor practices in the Tamaran Empire, following allegations that the long-time supplier of Federation biogel has been skirting labor regulations required for any Federation trade partner. The Tamaran Empire had denied any systematic issue, but did allow that ‘some’ suppliers could be breaking those rules and has vowed to address concerns by the Federation. More at FNN Markets.

Irene Mincine awoke in a darkened room, her head spinning. She tried to clear her disorientation – remembering where she was and how she got here.

The darkened room – that was where she was spending the night planetside on Risa. It was one of the suites in the resort the commander had managed to reserve during the conference. It was spacious, more spacious than the captain’s quarters aboard the Excalibur. Irene was in the bedroom, which was separated from the rest of the suite by a sliding partition.

She remembered going to a club that someone recommended. Pounding beats were the soundtrack to a fun evening she spent with a Deltan woman, Kasmati. Eventually, she took her back to the resort room. If they didn’t find jamaharon, they got close.

But she awoke with the bed empty. Kasmatimust have gone home at some point, she figured, but it was still dark out. Irene sat up in the bed, nearly falling back down. “Must have drank more than I thought...” she mumbled as she swung her legs to the floor.

She needed to pee really badly, so she figured that was true. The suite’s bathroom was on the other side of the partition. Irene managed to get to her feet somehow, holding her head the whole way. Little early for a hangover, she still felt the effects of all that Aldebaran whiskey. How long had she been asleep? Irene looked at the digital readout on the wall clock – 04:30 local time. Barely an hour!

She slid the partition open and stumbled through.

On the other side was Kasmati, looking quite surprised. “Oh, hi, Irene...”

The communicator kicked in again. “What’s going on? Who are you talking to?”

Irene blinked, trying to clear her head. “What are you doing with... all my stuff?” She finally came to the realization that something wasn’t right, taking a defensive posture.

“I told you the sedative wouldn’t work on her, she’s part-Klingon...” Kasmati growled into the communicator.

“Hold it!” Irene fumbled for her phaser on the table, dropping it. Kasmati dove for it, most of Irene’s belongings in a bag over her shoulder.

“I’m getting you out of there! Give me a second to bounce the transporter signal off the enhancers,” the communicator barked, a computer bleeping in the background.

Irene and Kasmati fought over the phaser, with Irene not ripping Kasmati’s arms off and beating her with them only because of the sedative. The phaser fired into the ceiling, narrowly missing Irene’s head.

“You idiot! You just set off every alarm in the building!”

Irene and Kasmati, still brawling on the floor, disappeared with the flash of a Ferengi transporter... only Irene’s combadge was left on the floor.

We’re off to Risa. That’s a good change from 3 days in a holding cell, isn’t it? When the commander came to bail me out, I was sure I was in for it - instead I got appointed as her personal trainer! I was really confused by that but she said she doesn’t really trust the security heads to not make fun of her behind her back. Understandable, I heard from someone in engineering that she broke three fingers punching out the captain’s lights. Maybe I can learn a thing or two about operations while we’re on the holodeck.

The cats are settling in on Excalibur fine. I’ve set up a storeroom as a little house for them. I got permission to turn up the inertial dampeners in that section to keep them from getting hurt if the ship hits turbulence or... you know, gets shot at. Some of the other science staff are looking after them, too, but they seem to be good at taking care of themselves.

I’ve never been to Risa. I’m looking forward to it, though. Hopefully we get some time to ourselves to... well... uh, computer, delete that last line. I understand we’re ferrying some VIP around, and I’m not security, so... should be a fun time. As long as... Issaha... stays away from me.

So we're on leave on Starbase 39-T while they sort out our next assignment. I'm excited to see where we're going next. More excited than I am to be in another Starfleet holding cell.

I didn't know we had a Romulan on board. Let me get one thing out: I do not like Romulans. P'Lor told me about all the times they've covertly and overtly screwed with the Empire, plus she's blown up a few Warbirds in her day. When I got back on Excalibur, and I found a Romulan scientist, I was ready to blast him myself. It's a good thing I didn't, because he's both rich and an exchange officer... who's rotating to planetary sciences soon, he says. I'd better talk to Lt. K'hal about that.

Anyway, he invited me out to the starbase since we’re both on leave. I took him up on some 2359 bloodwine in a moment of weakness. We weren’t there for 10 minutes before he was all over me! What a creep. After one particularly lecherous act (which I will not describe), I socked him in the mouth, leaving that rich idiot on the floor of the bar. Security hauled me off to the brig and him off to sick bay. I think I’m banned from the station now. Could be the bloodwine talking but it was totally worth it.

Anyway, I'm stuck here until someone from Excalibur comes and bails me out, so I've got a lot of time to think. This probably wasn't the smartest thing to do but it felt pretty good. Formal charges may be no good for my career, though... (sigh). And I'm not looking forward to the inevitable lecture from Commander Hawthorne.

A shower hummed softly in the background of Asher’s quarters aboard the Excalibur. Arden bit his lip as he picked up the brass sextant on his husband’s desk. It had been a gift, from Arden, when they got back together again after some disagreement -- Arden couldn’t even remember when exactly. That had always been the nature of their relationship. On again, off again with long periods of not talking to each other.

He thought they were finally past that. Glancing towards the bathroom, he wondered if he’d been wrong. Exhaling he set the sextant down. “I’m going to go check on a few things,” he said loud enough for Asher to hear him. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t go,” came a quick reply. “I am almost done, and anyway you need to get one too. Doctor’s orders.”

Arden sighed. Dr. Dubois had given all of the crew who’d been aboard the Lugh actual orders to shower and rest. “I know,” he said, “I won’t be long.” Before he could leave, Asher emerged from the bathroom, draped in a towel, his body glistening in the low lights.

“You shaved.”

“I know you hate when I have a beard,” Asher said with a boyish grin. “I’ll have Talen do something about the pony tail too, promises.”

“If you think sucking up is going to make me less mad at you,” Arden said with a tired sigh. “You might be right. But only a little. Though don’t expect Miranda to be so forgiving.”

“I don’t expect either of you to be, honestly.”

“I told you along time ago, I’d always be here for you. Even if you make that incredibly hard sometimes, it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I even deserve you.”

“You don’t, but the gods seem content to let that slide. Anyway, I am going to stay in some quarters K’hal arranged for me on deck 4. Don’t ask me to say. I love you Asher, gods know why but I do. Right now, though, I need sometime in my own headspace and you need to rest. I’ll be up for breakfast, okay?”

Though he wanted to protest, Asher nodded. “Do I at least get a good night kiss?”

“I hate you, I really do.”

Eventually, Asher was left alone in his quarters. He made his way to the small bar in the corner and opened a bottle of wine. He should never have left for Telar Minor, he considered. Not without telling Arden what was going on. He had deserved that much.

A chime interrupted. He half expected it to be Miranda. She had deserved more too. It was, however, just the intercom. “Captain, I have Vice-Admiral Tersan for you.”

He grunted a sigh. Couldn’t she have waited a few hours. “Of course,” he said, finding a shirt and pants. “Put her through.”

“Good. Captain -- Asher -- I am going to level with you. This entire incident is more than a little concerning and I will spare you a lecture.”

That was some small measure of relief.

“Out of deference to your husband, and to your ex-oh and crew -- all of which you owe a great deal of gratitude towards -- I let them go off on their rescue mission, off the books. I’ve only skimmed the preliminary statements by this Kai Emaril, as well as your own and just -- what on Earth you were thinking escapes me -- but,” she held a hand up, “ Like I said, I am not going to lecture you. Other than your previous run in with Mr. Emaril you have a distinguished service career that shows an excellent record of judgement. On that basis, I’ve recommended that this not go to a full board of inquiry and Command has, provisionally, accepted that. So this will all be in house for sector command. “

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Captain. It’s possible that we could find something that would merit opening a full inquest, but I would prefer that not to happen so if you have anything you’d like to tell me that was not in your initial report, now would be the time.”

“Not that I am aware of, ma’am.”

“I’ll hold you to that. “ She paused for a moment, straightening in her chair. “I would hope this doesn’t come as a surprise, but until we’ve finished our investigation, I am going to be suspending you from active duty. Commander Hawthorn will continue to have operational command of the Excalibur until the matter is resolved and I am including formal orders to that effect now. “

“Of course.”

“Very well -- unless you had anything else for me, Captain?”

“Only that I appreciate you allowing my crew and Arden to be the ones to mount my rescue, and I apologize for the inconvenience my lapse of judgement has caused you.”

"Just see it doesn't become a habit."

]]>29530Wed, 08 Aug 2018 05:21:35 +0000A Long Overdue Conversationhttps://www.stsf.net/forums/topic/29529-a-long-overdue-conversation/Reposting based on posting in the wrong part of the forums

The Galaxy Osprey hummed along at its maximum cruise speed of warp 6.5, which for a ‘civilian’ ship wasn’t half-bad. The makeshift science lab on the second deck doubled as a weapons storage locker, something Asher was less than thrilled about. Still Kai had managed to ‘acquire’ a rather impressive collection of scientific equipment, including an extremely advanced holographic imaging scanner of Caldorian origin that would cost a small fortune on the open market, but the price, according to Kai, was going to be well worth it.

Of course Asher knew Kai hadn’t actually bought the scanner. He’d stolen it. It still had a registry sticker from the Caldorian Science Adcademy on Thavor IV. Why bother lying to me now? Asher wondered as he adjusted the scanner to begin imaging the datacube they’d found in the Collabras system. After all of this, why lie about it. The thought continued to linger. There had always been a distance between them, despite their intimacy, even from the moment they met.

The trademark woosh of pneumatic doors drew Swain back to the present, his hands moving towards a disruptor pistol.

“You’ve gotten jumpier. Don’t trust me?”

“Not particularly,” Asher said without turning away from his work, but letting the disruptor out of his grip. “Though I don’t think you’d hurt me. Those uh, friends of yours, though?”

“They’re harmless, besides they know if anything happens to you they’ll deal with me.”

“No,” Asher said without looking up. “I just think you only care so long as I am useful for this little... whatever it is.”’

“I told you, I am going into retirement when this is over... at your insistence, I might add.

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Experience.”

Kai slid closer, blocking Asher from the scanner. “You’re the one who betrayed me.”

“We’re not starting this again,” Asher pushed back from the table and stood. “We both made mistakes, some of us bigger than others. If I thought I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be helping you like this. I certainly wouldn’t be risking my career for you again.”

“Oh,” Kai said, frowning. “So that’s why you’re ‘helping’ me? Because you feel bad about what you did twenty years ago still?”

“I said we aren’t doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Having this conversation. I told you I would help you find whatever this thing leads you to, and I’ve kept my end of the deal.”

“You conditioned it on me turning myself over to the Federation after I’ve sold whatever artifact we find, you mean.”

“I am a Starfleet officer Kai. I am only helping you because if I didn’t, you’d likely try and do this yourself and then end up dead.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice, for starters and second if you’d told me the truth...”

“You wouldn’t have helped? Turned me in?”

“I never wanted to be a part of your little scheme in the first place. It was one thing when you were just the ship’s purveyor of black market goods -- sneaking a case of Romulan ale here, a crate of Dzebian crystals there. Everyone knew about those little side deals -- even the XO. Hell I think half the officers used you for one thing or the other, but...”

“But helping freedom fighters under the brutal occupation of the Spoon...”

“Smuggling weapons to terrorists fighting a foreign government we happened to be trying to negotiate with to end nearly twenty years of unremitting hostility. Can’t think of many clearer violations of the prime directive...”

“And yet you helped anyway.”

“I only went along with it because you lied to me you bastard. You told me they were smuggling medical supplies.”

“Technically...”

“Don’t even. You knew damn good and well what was getting smuggled in and even if I agreed with what they were trying to accomplish...”

“Yeah, yeah -- you’re a Starfleet officer. I am painfully aware.”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you enlisted, don’t give me that crap.”

“The Federation turned a blind eye to the Occupation. They turned a blind eye to what was going on the DMZ. They stood by and just watched.”

Asher burst out laughing. “Like you gave a flying targ about any of that. This is exactly what I was talking about -- this is why I don’t trust you! You can never just be straight with me. There’s always some big story, some crap. Like this scanner. You didn’t buy it. You didn’t win it off a Ferengi in a game of tongo. You stole it.

“But you won’t tell me that because -- hell I don’t even know why at this point. Maybe you’re just a born liar. I don’t think I even care anymore. I’ve risked my career for you, I’ve almost certain blown up my marriage. And for what? To be lied to even more? What parts of the story you told me back on Earth were even true? You know what don’t bother. Just -- just go drink yourself silly while I work. That’s what you were always good at anyway.”

Asher glowered. “Of course I care about you, but none of that matters anymore. You’re a lying thief.”
“Look. I have certainly, over the years, embellished facts. Used them to manipulate people to do things for me that they wouldn’t do if they knew the truth -- and at this point, I do it so often and so regularly I don’t even usually notice.”

“Here we go again.”

“Fine, you’re right. I lie a lot. I stole the scanner from a Caladoran research team. They’re who found the second coordinate. I was, uh... I was under contract with them to provide security. I recognized the vault and well, you put the rest to together.”

“I already figured most of that out. I am not an idiot.”

“If you’re asking if I was being truthful about the rest? Then, mostly yes. After the war, I laid low for a while. Just small stuff here and there. The Bajorans might have talked the Federation into giving me amnesty, but I wasn’t exactly welcomed back into your big happy family with open arms.”

“You could have signed on with someone reputable.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t so who cares.

“Look the rest of what I told you was true. I got in with a syndicate -- not that one -- but a syndicate. I was running stuff for them, when well... I got a little careless. Now I owe them. I have a buyer lined up, now we just to finish the job.”

“And then.”

“And then,” Kai said heavily, “and then I’ll turn myself over to Starfleet, like we agreed.”